Ride On
by CeliaEquus
Summary: What if Evan Rosier didn't die? And what if he had a particular talent with horses? And what if one young time-traveller used this to her advantage? Usual disclaimers apply, of course. For the Talent Challenge!


"Ride On"

"Calm down, my darling," he said, stroking her neck gently. He moved back to her leg, and fussed away at the wire. What had possessed her to stray this far from a forest? She was such a free spirit that he couldn't imagine her belonging to anyone. Her leg shuddered where he touched it. "Hold still. Hush, you beauty."

Evan Rosier drew his wand, and used magic to pry the wire from around the horse's leg. She was remarkably well-behaved for a wild horse, too. But then, he _did_ have a soothing effect on all equines. Why should she be any different?

"There, now," he said, and he helped her hobble away from the fence. "You'll be all right. I won't let them put you down."

Her eyes were wild as she looked at him. He smiled softly, and stroked her cheek. She started to move her head away, so he caught it in his hands, and blew on her nose. The horse settled down immediately, and he cooed to her. When it seemed that she trusted him, he aimed his wand at her leg, and whispered a healing charm. She looked relieved, and he wondered if someone else had used magic on her before.

"I'll take you somewhere safe, all right?" he said, running his fingers through her mane. She nodded, and he laughed. Keeping his arm on her neck, he led her to the nearest woods he could find. But she didn't leave his side. Finally, he relented.

"Stay out of sight, though," he said. He placed a magical shield around her. "I'll be back soon. Perhaps you could help me in return?"

She nodded again, and he looked at her strangely. But he turned away slowly, and walked out of sight.

* * *

When he returned, she didn't realise that it was him. She thought that it really was Alastor Moody, and almost transformed back to human form. But she told herself not to be silly, and waited. He walked over to her, and stroked her neck.

"It's just me," he said. "I had to change appearances to get away. Transfigured a log to look like myself, Confunded Mad-Eye Moody, took a piece of his nose, and used it in some Polyjuice Potion. Tasted horrible; but they'll never suspect a thing." He chuckled. "Let's get you out of here, eh?"

She nodded. He checked her leg, which was fully healed, and she allowed him to mount her. He directed her with the occasional tap of a heel, a soft tug of the mane, and even a spoken word. After a good hour or so, they arrived at a hidden cabin. He dismounted smoothly, and led her to a trough. By this time, his original looks had returned.

"I'll find some brushes," he said. "You look so well-groomed, but I bet you need freshening up now, don't you?"

She trotted back from him, looking around nervously. He couldn't wash her! He was a man! Even though she was in her Animagus form, who knew how she'd react?

"Hey," he whispered. He stepped forward. "It's all right. I won't hurt you."

That's not what I'm afraid of, she thought. But when he blew warm air on her nose again, she calmed down. He looked at her with his deep blue eyes, reddish-brown hair pushed back behind his ears. He was a Death Eater, but she trusted him. He had a strange and powerful effect on her.

He was dangerous.

"I wish I knew your name," he said, rubbing circles on her cheeks. "Your mane is the same silver as Slytherin house. Your coat is a glossy white. What a magnificent creature you are. If you were mine, I would look after you so well." His face was filled with longing, and she shivered. "I'm sorry. Perhaps I should get you a blanket instead?" She shook her head. "No? I must do _something_ to thank you for helping me get away. I'll find you something to eat, at the very least. You've walked so far, for so long. Wait here."

He disappeared inside the cabin. She fidgeted where she stood. She had to leave in less than half an hour to return to her own time, and she had to be in her human form. With any luck, he'd just return with a carrot or something. Then she could have it and leave. Simple.

In the meantime, she'd have a drink.

* * *

Evan thought about his mysterious friend. She was beautiful, like an angel sent to him from heaven. An equine angel. He smiled. Maybe he could convince her to stay with him? He could construct some sort of stable for her; and in the meantime, he could just enlarge the shed out the back. There was some old tack in his hideout. With a few adjustments—and a good bit of polishing—they could fit her.

Grabbing a handful of carrots, he hurried back outside. She was still there, waiting patiently. He held out one carrot on his flat palm, and marvelled at the softness of her muzzle as her lips picked up the treat. He stroked it as she munched, before repeating the same thing until she had eaten all of the carrots.

"How about an apple now?" he asked, but she shook her head. He laughed, and kissed her nose. "Very well." He looked at the sky, or what he could see through the trees. It was turning grey. "I think you should stay here for the night. I'll just make up a room for you, so to speak. Follow me." He walked around the cabin, and frowned at the dilapidated garden shed. "That won't do. Some reparation is in order, don't you think?"

He turned around, but his companion was nowhere in sight. Wondering if she hadn't understood the instruction, he returned to the trough. But she wasn't there, either.

"Angel! Where are you, my angel?" He listened, but there were no stamping hooves, no puffs of air, no rustling tail. "Angel?" He ran into the surrounding forest, checking for stray silver strands of horse hair. For a good hour, he checked for signs of her.

How had he become so bewitched by a creature that he felt as though he could die if she wasn't there? Was his life so empty and devoid of female company that he craved the presence of one measly horse?

But she wasn't measly, he thought. He sighed, and returned to the cabin. Obviously, she didn't want to stay around him; he wasn't worth her time. It hurt, though. She was 'only' a horse; but it had felt like so much more.

"She'll return when she's ready," he said, sinking into his old armchair. "She will. She'll return."

He never strayed more than a hundred yards from his cabin. Not for eighteen years.

* * *

Hermione wished that there wasn't such a loud Pop! when she Apparated. Of course, chances were that the cabin was no longer inhabited. But she had been given her assignment, and she intended to see it through. To her, it was only a few hours ago that she had arrived back in the present. They allowed her time to rest after the significant time travel, not to mention all the time spent walking around in her Animagus form.

Now she had returned to the same part of that forest.

"Lights," she murmured, gazing at the small house. She could hear someone humming, and approached the door nervously. It stopped when she knocked on the door.

"Come in," a scratching voice said. She paused before placing her hand on the door handle. Pushing it open, she stepped into the cabin, and her eyes immediately landed on the man she remembered so clearly. Certainly, he was eighteen years older than when she had seen him last.

"Hello," she said.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Hermione Granger."

"Hermione Granger, eh? You say that as though it should mean something."

"Aren't you aware of the war that has been fought these past few years?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. She closed the door, and moved towards him slowly. "Light versus Dark? Harry Potter versus You-Know-Who?"

"Harry who?"

"Where have you been these past eighteen years?" she said.

"Here," he said. "Away from the world." He stood, and walked to a window. "Waiting for… her."

"Who?"

"My angel," he whispered. He turned his head slightly. "Did you see a white horse on your way here?"

"Uh, no. I Apparated."

"A real beauty," he said. "White coat, silver mane. I'd never seen anything like her. I have a knack with horses, you know. See plenty come through here. That's why I chose this location almost two decades ago," he said. "Eighteen years, you say? Then it must be 1998?"

"Yes."

"Hmm." He looked outside again. "I've never given up hope that she would arrive. I've never left, just in case. I live on what I can find around here."

"I can see that," she said, her voice soft as her watery eyes took in his ragged appearance. His unwashed clothes hung off his frame. No doubt he used magic to keep himself tidy, and to cut his hair and shave. But he was severely undernourished.

_She_ had done this to him?

Then it was all her fault that the Ministry was now searching for him.

After Voldemort died, someone had decided to re-test the preserved Death Eater bodies, and see what happened with their Dark Marks now that their former master was truly dead. When they got to Evan Rosier's body, however, there was just a log. Harry had remembered what Crouch Junior had done with his father's body, and deduced that the log had been Transfigured.

Rosier had been a champion horse rider when he was younger, and Hagrid remembered his affinity with the Thestrals. Even before he could see them, he could still tell that they were there, and had started up Thestral-racing at Hogwarts. At least, until it had been found out.

Using this information, they used Hermione's secret Animagus form to their advantage. She had been sent back in time with the only undamaged object from the Time Chamber in the Department of Mysteries. She went to the scene of the fight, and wandered around as a horse until a man found her, a man who fit the description of the late Death Eater. Since he had never been tried for being one of Voldemort's followers, she was told to bring him to the MoM.

"I'm so sorry," she said, and she walked forward until she was close enough to place a hand on his arm. He jumped at the human contact.

"What for?"

"I…" She swallowed. "She's here. Your angel is here."

"Where?" he asked eagerly, and he ran to the door. Before she could speak, he wrenched it open and leapt outside. "Angel? My angel? Where are you, darling?" Slowly, Hermione followed him outside, and he rounded on her. "Where is she?"

When she was standing in front of him, she said, "Here." She briefly placed her hand on his cheek, before stepping back. Within seconds, he saw his angel in front of him. With a choked sob, he walked forward, amazement etched on his face. She didn't shy away as he reached out.

"Hello," he said, flinging his arms around her neck. "You beautiful girl, Angel. I knew you wouldn't forget me." He breathed in her scent, nose buried in her mane. At first, he didn't notice Hermione turning back into her human form. Not until he began to kiss her neck gently, thinking that it was a horse he was kissing. But, when she turned her head to look at him, shocked, his lips landed on hers. He pulled back with an inaudible gasp, looking deeply into her brown eyes.

His angel's eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she repeated, her voice husky. She cleared her throat. "I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting."

"It was worth it," he said. The madness of isolation was slowly fading from his eyes. Hermione thought that they looked as much like a stormy ocean as they did eighteen years ago, and she couldn't tear her gaze away from them. Very gradually, he leaned closer. "I knew it. I knew I loved you. Now I know just how deep that love runs." He stroked her hair away. "Your mane is so different. So much more…"

"Unmanageable?"

"Wild," he whispered. "It can't be wrong to feel this way about someone I thought was a horse, can it?"

"Feel?"

"Mmm-hmm. Feel," he repeated, and he crashed his lips onto her again, only this time with greater intent. She gave in to his pressing lips and wandering tongue, going limp in his clinging arms. But then she remembered Ron, the man she loved. She couldn't allow herself to be affected by this madman, who worshipped an illusion.

"I'm sorry," she said, stepping out of his arms. "But you must come with me."

"Anywhere, Hermione," he said. She paused when he said her name, but recalled her duty. She took his hand, and he pulled her close. With another Pop!, she Disapparated them to the Ministry.

**

* * *

**

Well, this was supposed to be for the Talent Challenge. I'm not sure how much it stuck to the challenge itself, but ah well. You could say that the challenge was my inspiration, if you like. Any excuse to pair Hermione with another older man, particularly since I'm in a Death Eater-and-Hermione mood at the moment.

**And there will be no sequel. Obviously, he will be arrested, tried, and probably imprisoned. But maybe he'll get visits from his angel. I like to think that he will.**

**Review, review, review!**


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